Republic Commando: Fallen Brothers
by Marcus Reyner
Summary: Delta 38 has ended up a drunk after the fall of the Republic, refusing to fold into the ranks of the Storm Troopers. Reviews and story suggestions highly appreciated.
1. Lizards are more frightened of you

Delta 38 slammed his shot glass on the bar, almost shattering it.

"Hit me again." He growled at the bartender, a large, fat man, shaking his head in disgust.

A trandoshan next to him stared.

"What are you looking at, lizard-breath? Do you know how many of your kind I killed in my prime?" 38 snarled.

The trandoshan backed down, terrified. Unusual for their kind. Must not have many jagganath points.

"Your drink, Boss." That was a name he hadn't heard in a while. Almost overcome with emotions and memories, he put his head on the table.

He glanced back at the bar, where his shot glass sat, refilled. He could barely see it, his eyes were so wet. He grabbed it, and stood up.

"I used to lead the best squad of men in the galaxy!" he shouted, challenging the entire cantina. "And now look at me! A wreck without a name! But I'm still better than any of you nerf herders here!"

Another Trandoshan stood up and started to growl at him in Dosh, rolling the sleeves of his yellow jumpsuit up.

38 was a little rusty in Dosh translation, but he got the gist of the insults. Something about his mother mating out of season.

He laughed.

"Joke's on you, you scaly fuck! I never had a mother!" 38 shouted.

The first punch was hard, nearly dislocating 38's jaw.

The second punch was 38's, smashing the glass against the reptile's snout. Following that, an elbow to the throat put the lizard down.

He stomped on the thing's throat a few times to make sure it was dead.

"You lizards never did learn that I was scarier than you."

The bartender put a hand on 38's shoulder.

"You better get going, mate." he said.

As 38 stepped out of the cantina, he had to shield his eyes from Tatooine's twin suns.

"I hate this city." he muttered. Mos Eisley was a hornet's nest, full of scum. Needed to be wiped off the face of the planet.

A group of Storm Troopers stared at him. Under-trained conscripts, the lot of them. Needed to be taught a lesson.

Maybe the rebellion wasn't such a bad thing.


	2. BEEP BEEP CANNOT SELF TERMINATE

As 38 got home, he heard music. Harsh, militaristic music. Mandalorian lyrics. "Vode an".

As he cleared his house with his Blas-tech DC-15s pistol, a relic from the Geonosian war, he realized that he was simply having an auditory flashback.

Flashbacks of his inception. His training. His graduation. The war. Sev.

He fell to his knees, sobbing. As Master Yoda had given the order to leave, 38 had looked through his scope, and caught a glimpse of Sev, broken and bloody, but alive. Reaching out for the ship. His helmet was missing. 38 had never forgotten the look in his eyes.

It haunted him in his sleep. A look of hopelessness, a feeling no brother of his should ever have to feel.

38 hadn't slept for days. The memories were getting worse. He felt worse every day. He was approaching the end of his life, he could feel it.

Cellular degeneration racked his body with pain some nights. He would never feel better. Things would only get worse.

He flipped the safety of his pistol off, and pressed the muzzle against the side of his head. Along with his helmet, it was one of the only things from his past the new Empire would allow him to keep, from his service days.

The rest of the suit they kept for new commandos, even though it had been custom-tooled for 38, and 38 alone. It had been made from the finest of materials, by Mandalorian engineers, it wasn't the recycled junk the rest of the Clone Troopers had worn.

It had felt like a second skin, he barely realized he was wearing it, most of the time.

He prepared to pull the trigger, an undignified end for a highly-ranked soldier.

After what felt like ages, he finally relaxed and let his gun-arm drop to his side. He couldn't do it.

He couldn't self-terminate.

Why?

He had killed thousands in his service, what was one more death by his hand?

He wasn't even a real person, he was an expendable asset, that had been used up and thrown away.

He was bred to kill, and to embrace death, to expect it at any time.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't pull that trigger.

Why not?

What was wrong with him?

He laid down, crying himself to sleep.


	3. Inciting Incident

38 woke up cold. It was night. His door was open. Had been since he had gotten home, he had forgotten to close it. He lived in a primitive shack, without any power.

Nothing was missing, 38 didn't have anything to steal. No holo-players, no droids, nothing. He was a merely a vagrant with a home.

He sat up. A cold breeze blew through his door. He looked out into the night. It was a nice night. Quiet. It reminded him of the quiet on The Prosecutor, before finding the scavenger droids and trandoshans.

Too quiet. Eerie. He had a bad feeling about it.

A blaster bolt ripped past 38's head, silently.

He hit the floor before the sound rang out seconds later. This was a far shot. Sev would have been hard-pressed to shoot at that range.

Stormtroopers appeared from nowhere, a squad of them. 38 pulled his blaster. Shooting a trooper would brand him a traitor to the empire.

Did he even have the right to defend his life at all, let alone from the Empire? Could the trooper he planned to shoot possibly be a brother?

"PUT THE BLASTER DOWN NOW!" the lead trooper yelled.

38 complied.

"Trooper RC-1138, you are under arrest for the murder of Klaatan Preshna!"

"He hit me first, it was self-" 38 started to reply, but the lead trooper smashed the butt of his rifle against 38's jaw before he could finish, knocking him out.


	4. Call it Death Star 2: Electric Boogaloo

38 woke up to a strange smell. Tobacco?

"Boss, how're you holding up?"

Scorch!

38 got up, slowly, painfully. He took in his surroundings. He was on a ship. Moving.

"I'm doing just fine, trooper." he said sarcastically.

"Good to hear. RC-1138, the Empire would like to extend a job offer to you. An offer you cannot refuse." Scorch said.

"Why not?" 38 asked.

"Boss, we were created to be loyal to Palpatine. Plus, there's that murder charge. You refuse, and your life is forfeit."

"So what?"

"Boss, the Empire wants to give us our old jobs back. They need help crushing the rebellion."

"What is that smell?" 38 asked.

"A very old cigar. I've found it helps with the cellular degeneration. I know you've been feeling those pains, Boss."

"It just means I'm about to die, Scorch."

"Which way would you rather die, Boss? On your knees or in battle?"

Scorch handed 38 a blaster. His old Blas-Tech DC17m. It still had a bit of trandoshan blood on the muzzle.

"We found your helmet in your house. This isn't the life you were meant to lead, Boss. You were meant to lead men."

"Who will I be leading?" 38 asked.

"Me and Fixer. It'll be just like old times, the Empire is even going to issue us our old armor."

"Where are we going?"

"Hoth. Lord Vader has a person of importance he wants us to nab. Luke Skywalker."

"Skywalker? Any relation to Anakin?"

"Probably. Anyways, seems Luke is a big symbol of the rebellion, he's the kid that blew up the first Death Star."

"First?"

"We're building another."


	5. Reunion

38 suited up in his old armor. It still fit him like a second skin. He put his helmet on last. As it synched up with the suit, statistics popped up in his visor. His health bar was yellow, missing two bars.

"Get some bacta, soldier!" Scorch ordered him sarcastically, trying to imitate 38's accent. Scorch was technically in charge of this mission, though he would follow 38's orders to the death.

"You don't need to tell me twice, trooper." 38 replied.

"Boss, my armor smells like piss." Fixer complained. It was strange, Fixer rarely complained. Must smell really bad.

"That's because the guy who used it after you pissed himself before being killed." Scorch told him.

"Dammit!" Fixer shouted.

"It'll go away after a few washings in blood." 38 consoled him.

"Do we have a scout sniper?" Fixer asked.

The three of them stood in silence for a moment, a moment of silence for Sev.

"There's a guy with eyes on the base already." Scorch muttered.

"What's he packing?" 38 asked.

"An E-11s marksman rifle."

"Never used one of those. It any good?" Fixer asked.

"It's pretty righteous. Puts holes on targets 3 miles out."

"Wow. Our Deeces only get 2.3, wasn't it?" Fixer whistled.

"What's the info on the target? It a live snatch and grab, or a snuff one?" 38 asked.

"Vader wants the kid alive. Don't ask me why, probably to make an example of him. If we can't capture him without killing him, we're to abort the mission. I get the final say on that." Scorch explained.

"What if we get captured?" 38 asked.

Scorch scoffed.

"We don't have any info that could compromise any of the empire's plans. They'll probably torture us for a while, but we can't give them anything, so expect death."

"What's this scout's name?"

"His designation is IC-8576. He's been trained by Boba."

"Really? Boba? Dad's favorite? Whatever happened to him? Haven't seen him since Geonosis, when dad got killed."

"He's a bounty hunter now. Like father, like son, they say." Fixer chimed in.

"By the way, Fixer, what have you been up to?" 38 asked.

"Been working security and tech on a Bespin Tibanna gas mine called Cloud City. I answer directly to the boss, Lando Calrissian. Nice guy. What have you been up to, Boss?" he replied.

"Drinking heavily. How about you, Scorch? You're obviously still working for the Empire."

"Got promoted to an officer's job. I tried to stay in combat, but Vader wouldn't have it, he said I had too much experience tactically. Said I served my combat duties in the Geonosian war."

"2 hours to landing, Gentlemen." a ship hand shouted from his position. They were on a modified civilian ship, not registered. The empire had put some untested radar blocker on it. Expensive stuff. This Skywalker kid must be important.


	6. FNG

2 hours later, Delta Squad stacked up on the door.

As it opened, they exited, Deeces at the ready. No contact. A rare thing for a Delta trooper, to land without being under fire.

It was quiet for a blizzard. The only sound was the howling wind. This was a deserted planet, though, so it was no surprise.

38 signaled for the others to follow him. It was 2 kliks to the rendezvous point.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Fixer muttered.

"Cut the chatter!" 38 barked.

It was an uneventful trek to the meeting point. But there was no one there.

Suddenly, the sound of a weapon being charged broke the silence.

"SUN!" a voice shouted.

"Tattooine" 38 replied. "You '76? That was a decent ambush."

A tall trooper walked around from behind the Deltas.

"You were too easy. You're slipping, old man. Not a very good first impression." he scoffed.

"Well, I hope I can make up for it." 38 replied.

'76 slung his weapon, and saluted 38.

"Put your hand down, trooper." 38 chided. "You got a name other than your number?"

"Deek." '76 replied.

"Well, Deek, my name is 1138, but you can call me Boss."

Deek looked confused. Well, as confused as a faceless trooper can look in a blizzard.

"You mean you don't have a real name?" he asked.

"No clone was issued with a name. First off, it would imbue us with a sense of self-importance. Second, there were far too many of us." Scorch told him.

"So you really are the fabled Delta Squad. It's an honor to be a part of Delta, sir!" Deek said, saluting again.

"I said put your hand down, trooper." 38 said. "What's the situation at the base?"

"Well, I picked up some radio chatter, Skywalker is missing."

"So we came here for pretty much nothing." Fixer groaned.

"Solo is looking for him." Deek continued.

"Sir, this would be the perfect time for an ambush on the base." Fixer said.

"Our mission is to capture Skywalker." Scorch replied. "The rest of the Empire is waiting for his capture, we have everything up to AT-ATs prepped for the assault."

"We wait until he's found. Then we can assault the base and capture him at the same time." 38 said.


End file.
